Stews and stories: comfort food just like grandma used to make

There are days when a meal begins long before you take your first bite — a scent drifting from the kitchen that takes over the whole house: paprika, garlic, broth. Outside, the sea breeze still lingers softly, but inside something is simmering that tastes like comfort. On the Costa, November isn’t just the month of chestnuts, but also of Spanish stews — the season when patience becomes the main ingredient.

The soul of the Spanish stew

The Spanish kitchen has dozens of stews, each with its own story. In the east, there’s olleta alicantina — a hearty mix of beans, potatoes, cabbage and pork. Further south, you’ll find olla gitana, the Andalusian “gypsy soup” with chickpeas, pumpkin and mint. Simple, nourishing dishes born from modest origins — yet today they’re making a comeback in modern kitchens, where chefs are rediscovering the power of slow cooking.

A few simple tips for home

You don’t need Spanish heritage to fill your home with the scent of comfort food. Start with dried legumes — beans or chickpeas soaked overnight. Add smoked paprika, a bit of chorizo or aubergine for depth of flavour. Let it simmer slowly for hours with a sprig of rosemary or bay leaf. The longer it bubbles, the more the flavours melt together. And when the sauce clings thickly to a wooden spoon, you’ll know it’s just right.

Where to taste it on the Costa

Along the coast, you’ll find them everywhere — from humble village eateries to modern bistros. In small restaurants from Jávea to Estepona, November menus often feature dishes like olleta alicantina, potaje de garbanzos or fabes con verduras — stews of beans, vegetables and herbs that smell like Sunday. At local markets, they’re sometimes sold in small terracotta bowls: warm, simple, and perfect after a brisk afternoon walk.

The taste of patience

There’s something comforting about food that takes its time. Stews don’t just teach you how to cook — they teach you how to wait. The aroma fills the house, the steam fogs the windows, and somewhere along the way, the rush of the day quietly disappears.

Sometimes it’s not the flavour that comforts you, but the patience within it.